Page 169 of Our Little Secret

“Then you should call the police.”

“I will. But I need evidence. I don’t have enough, nothing concrete. Just suspicions.”

A pause.

She rubbed her free hand on her jeans for warmth. “Please, Caleb. Help me out here. This man, he’s a predator. I know for a fact that he spied on my daughter.”

“You know?” he said, and his voice was even more serious.

“Yes. I have no proof, but from what he’s said, I know he’s a voyeur. So I just need help to put him away.”

“I could lose my job,” he said, and she imagined him worriedly wiping his hand over his face before taking a sip of whatever he was drinking while he was alone on Christmas Eve.

“I’m desperate, Caleb,” she admitted, her voice quivering, her teeth chattering.

She heard him expel a long breath. “Oh hell. Fine,” he finally agreed. “I’ll see what I can do, scratch the surface, and if I find anything suspicious or, you know, really bad, I’ll send it to you.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m not in the house right now, but as soon as I get back, I’ll send the info to you from my personal email including the pictures and you can reply to the same.”

“Not in the house? Where the hell are you? It’s a damned blizzard outside here in Seattle. Streets frozen. Traffic a mess. I’m worried I won’t be able to get to Tanisha’s house in the morning, but the kids are all about it. A white Christmas, you know, and Santa will make it.”

“I’m on the island—Piper Island. It’s a little one off the Oregon coast, south of Cannon Beach; nearest town is Marwood.

“But listen, don’t email me. I’ll contact you first.”

“How?” Her whole body was shaking.

“I’ll email you first. You won’t recognize the return address, so it might go to your spam account. Look for the word ‘holiday’ spelled backward, uh, with the ‘Y’ and ‘H’ capitalized and an extra capital letter ‘L’ in the word. ‘Holliday’ backward, got it? ‘YadiLloH.’ Separated by random numbers and symbols. It won’t fool anyone who knows what they’re doin’, not for long, but it could slow ’em down for a while. And I’ll destroy it . . . Holy God, I must be out of my mind.”

“As I said, I owe you.”

“And more than a bottle of that cheap-ass Scotch you gave at the Secret Santa Christmas party last week.”

“There was a price limit,” she said.

He snorted.

“Okay, okay. Top shelf. And I’ll still owe you.”

“You got it,” he said. “For the rest of your damned life.”

“You got it.”

“All right, then,” Caleb said in a little better mood. “I’ll see what I can find.” Then he disconnected.

Okay, that was a start.

She hoped Caleb could gather the evidence she needed.

If not, she’d have to goad Eli into a confession, and that would be tricky.

But maybe necessary.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to get the blood moving; her gloves just weren’t cutting it.

Then, once she took another look inside and assured herself that everyone was still in the cabin, she slunk along the hedgerow to the front of the house and driveway. She slipped between the two vehicles, her SUV and Leah’s Chevy Bolt. With one eye on the house, ensuring that no one was looking through the windows, she reached into the vehicle and under the seat to retrieve her sample case with all of the tiny spy equipment Clayton Electronics had to offer.

Two can play at this game, she thought, before going to work. Thankfully, all of her samples were wireless and already connected to her iPhone as well as her laptop for ease in showing potential customers the tiny microphones’ and cameras’ capabilities. Now all she had to do was strategically place the equipment. It wouldn’t be easy with so many people in the house, but she considered it a last gasp effort to expose Eli as the fraud he was.